


Laced Illusion

by TwistedViolets



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: A little angst, Alot of dialogue, Klaus just wearing a skirt, Little itsy bit of self harm, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 21:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20824235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/TwistedViolets
Summary: The first time Klaus had worn one of Allison's skirts he felt proud, beautiful, and just so...free.He showed everyone.He got strange looks, smiles, encouragement, and a little bit of teasing.All of that was fine because it was all supportive in nature. His father on the other hand didn’t fancy the skirt.





	Laced Illusion

**Author's Note:**

> A garbage oneshot that I wrote for a friend. I wasn’t planning on sharing it at first since im not a fan of it. None of the settings, or scenes are really fleshed out but I don’t really have an interest in doing so at the moment.
> 
> Maybe someday in the future I’ll fix this up. <3

"Aren't I Pretty?" He asked Allison as he spun on the floor, his feet moving in a way to try and avoid getting splinters, which was nearly impossible. 

"You are adorable," she coos, ruffling his skirt, one she had picked up for him. "I knew this one would fit you good," she said gesturing to his hips which her skirt hugged comfortably.

"Thanks," he blushes as he spins again, just enjoying the breeze that his suit normally never allowed.

Ah, freedom tastes so good he thought as his stomach begins to grow butterflies.

————————————————————

Diego is busy.

Woodcarving, which is a hobby their mother had thrown on him and their father predicts will only last a week. So his brother is preoccupied, so busy that he didn't even notice what he was so happy about for five minutes of awkward silence.

Diego gives him a strange look when he finally notices. His eyebrows raised in confusion. He says nothing.

His heart is squeezed in his chest, it almost feels like it isn't beating anymore. Maybe this is stupid, maybe it's too weird.

"It looks comfy," Diego says before returning to carving a piece of white Birchwood into the shape of a duck.

Klaus lets out a breath of relief.

————————————————————

Vanya found him strange looking as well, he could tell by the look in her eyes. She held her violin against her chest as her eyes scan him again and again. He blushes and grins.

"I don't think yellow is your color," she said with a calm, hushed voice that is soothing to his heart. 

"Oh?" He swings his hips, letting the skirt jump up a little while he places a hand on his hip.

"You'd look better in...pink?" 

He agrees.

————————————————————

"Isn't this perfect," Five said as he grins himself, looking smug- as if he's getting enjoyment out of this. "I predicted this ages ago."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner," he jokes, rubbing a hand in the skirt, "I wish I would have known how good they felt to wear."

Five gets a frown on his face. "You shouldn't prance around like this. Dad can only handle one pretty little princess at a time."

"I am not a princess," he mutters throwing his head to the side to try and hide his reddening cheeks. 

————————————————————

"God, what are you wearing?" Luther groans looking at him.

Klaus smiles.

Luther shakes his head.

Klaus's smile wains.

Luther sighs.

"Next time don't wear something so hideous please," he said narrowing his eyes at the disgusting patterns on the skirt, one that distinctly reminds him of an old lady's wallpaper.

————————————————————

"Oh my goodness!" His mother exclaims, over dramatically he might add.

He smiles anyway.

His mother gives him a big hug before leaning back and giving him a sincere look. "I'm so proud of you," she coos to him in her sweet mother voice, "I'm glad you can be yourself around me," she adds before smothering him with kisses on his forehead.

"Mom!" He tries to push her away, his cheeks heating up against his will.

She kisses his cheek while he groans.

"You are the most adorable heart stealer I've ever seen," she gives him a final hug before letting him free from her monstrous torture.

He can't help but feel his heart warm.

————————————————————

"You are doing great," Ben says, his voice lacking any emotion.

He frowns as he basks in his fake spotlight, one his brother doesn't see because he's so absorbed in a stupid book.

"You haven't even looked at me!" He exclaims pressing a hand on his chest as if he is offended, which he is a little bit. Ben looks up for a moment before looking back to his book.

"Like I said you're doing great, keep up the less than normal stupid decisions." He sounds half asleep.

He frowns, climbing up on the bed beside his brother before throwing his head back. "Does it look weird?" 

"Does it feel weird?"

"Don't answer a question with a question." 

"Fine, it doesn't look weird. I actually think it suits you." Ben sighs, shuts his book and gives him a small smile.

He gives a smile back, just brighter.

"It feels...right." He whispers to his brother who just nods in understanding.

————————————————————

He is nervous.

His hands are sweating, his body trembles underneath his father's scrutinizing gaze. His father's eyes are hard set while his lips are painted with thin lines of indifference.

"Um..." he stops, losing all his train of thought. He tries his best to swallow down his unease.

His father's lips twitch upward before he brings a fist up to his lips to conceal the smile growing underneath it. "You look..." he stops for a moment before he starts to chuckle, "absolutely ridiculous." His father chuckles, laughs right at him as his fist hides an eerie smile and it brakes every part of his heart in a million pieces.

His father never laughed like this but he is...at him.

He feels tears welling up in his eyes, his heart constricts painfully in his chest. He turns around and runs, so embarrassed for himself.

Being laughed at felt so bad, even though he had expected worse. He runs into a bathroom and locks the door.

He removes the skirt, grinds his teeth as he begins to tear it. The ripping sounds are relaxing, the shreds of the skirt make the tears fall down his cheek.

He feels like an idiot.

He cries clenching the torn pieces of fabric in his hands.

————————————————————

He stays in the bathroom for a whole day. Sitting against a wall crying while the shadows moved and the sun went down.

Nobody came to check on him.

He didn't care about that though. He just couldn't get his father's laugh out of his mind, no matter how many times he told it to shut up. It just kept replaying and replaying.

He almost threw up from how worked up it was making him but he managed to keep his stomach contents where it belongs. Taking deep breathes and counting to ten like he had been taught to do when his 'friends' became too loud.

————————————————————

"Good riddance," his father said upon seeing the ripped up skirt. 

He didn't say anything back.

"Get some pants on and forget about the skirt. Skirts are for young ladies, not men," he said, his voice burrowing deep inside his heart.

Hurting, tearing his sensitive heart to Shreds.

"Hiding away isn't going to change the shamefulness of your actions," His father continues while making some gesture.

"I'm sorry," he whispered clenching skirt tightly, his nails digging into his flesh.

His father sighs, his eyes glazed over with indifference.

"Discard it, in its current state it's worth no more than garbage," he clicks his cane off the floor, the wooden boards creak. "Get dressed in a proper entire before you come to breakfast."

He nods and walks away, his legs cold, and his boxers feeling disgusting.

Blood is dripping from his palm because he had been clenching his nails into it. The blood dampened the fabric of his boxers. 

Everything is fine though, it felt good to make himself bleed, in fact, it felt too good. It's much like the freedom this skirt had once allowed him to have- intoxicating illicit freedom.


End file.
